


In the Woods Somewhere

by jawsandbones



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Post-DA2, Pregnant Hawke, Red-Lyrium, Red-Lyrium Fenris, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 07:05:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6556609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jawsandbones/pseuds/jawsandbones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short What If - Hawke doesn't go to the Inquisition. Fenris gets corrupted by Red-Lyrium</p><p>She hears a crack, the resounding sound of a branch snapping. She starts, and rises to her feet, her knuckles white as she grasps her staff. She sees familiar white hair and is relieved, until she sees the rest of him. “Oh no. No, no, no, Fenris, no.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Woods Somewhere

**Author's Note:**

> Deer in the chase  
> There as I flew  
> Forgot all prayers of joining you
> 
> I clutched my life  
> And wished it kept  
> My dearest love I'm not done yet
> 
> In the Woods Somewhere - Hozier

“Fenris,” Hawke says, smiling and stretching out her hands. Fenris reaches for her and his hands grasp hers. He helps her across the stream, steadying her footsteps. When they make camp, she promptly removes her boots and dries them by the fire. She stretches and warms her feet near the flames. They’ll need to go into town soon and buy him some proper boots, before the winter comes. She teases that he cannot go barefoot forever. He sits beside her, cross-legged, and she leans into him and smiles. It feels as though they’ve been on the run for ages, but her humor has not dimmed. They are content just to be with each other.

He wraps an arm around her shoulders and kisses her brow. His other hand rests over her belly, which is growing steadily. The Chantry is distracted, pre-occupied by other things, and it should be safe for them to settle in one place soon. They wondered if it were too bold to simply go back to Kirkwall, or if they should make their way elsewhere. Hawke had suggested Lothering, although they had feared the Chantry would be watching for them there as well. It was common knowledge now that the Champion had lived in Lothering. Although they still had time, they were anxious to choose a place soon.

She smiles, and puts her hand over his. He has not left her side once, and she would not leave his. Varric had written them, and told them of the newly formed Inquisition, headed by those who once hunted them. Not to make an example of them, as they once thought, but to lead their Inquisition. Luckily, they had found another. Someone who had survived the destruction of the Conclave, the lone survivor in fact. One with the power to seal the Rifts that opened the world to the Fade, and to demons. They had been lucky so far in avoiding any Rifts in their path.

He had written them again, weeks later, warning them that Corypheus had not stayed dead and that he called the Templars to his side. They ingested red-lyrium and became twisted creatures, demons in their own right, human no longer. Varric asked Hawke to come to Skyhold, to talk to the Inquisitor and help them defeat Corypheus again. She gently refused, not willing to risk the bit of life growing within her. Over the years she had become proficient at destroying. Just this once, she wanted to create. Instead, she told him to write Carver. Perhaps the Grey Wardens would have something to offer. After all, they had sealed him once before.

Fenris sleeps soundly, his arms wrapped around her. They lie in their bedroll together, their legs tangled together and his breath on her neck. She smiles into his arm and wiggles her way closer to him. His arms tighten around her, protective and loving. She would not trade this for anything. He wakes first, the embers now fading. She is slow to wake, protesting weakly and drawing the bedroll around her. He laughs and takes her hands, helping her to her feet. They have quite a ways to go.

He draws the hood around him when they enter the town. He is noticeable, she is not. She chatters to him as they stroll through the market, pointing out different trinkets and things that might be useful. They find him a pair of boots that fit, as well as thicker cloaks for the both of them. They are grateful for them when the snow begins to fall a few weeks later. Walking through the snow takes effort and she tires more easily now. Fenris does not complain when she needs to rest, nor does he ever go ahead of her. Side by side, and a kiss on the cheek.

They find a road, worn with footsteps and carriage tracks, making it easier for her to travel. She stretches, hands on her back, and her cloak parts over her belly. He hides a smile as she complains of aches she’s never had before. They will reach Redcliffe soon, and then they can look for a cottage close by. When they make camp she complains she’s like a bloated pig. He laughs at her openly then, and she kicks at him playfully. She grabs for him, and brings his lips to hers, silencing his laughter.

He kisses her hungrily, greedily, missing the taste of her mouth. They’ve barely had a minute of peace together. They had to scrape together moments when they could. Her breasts are swollen and tender, and she moans at his touch. She reaches for him, and pushes him down onto their bedroll. She deftly undoes the laces on his trousers, and frees him. She pushes down her own trousers as far as need be, and lowers herself onto him. He does most of the work, thrusting into her, as she holds onto his shoulders. He grasps at her, hands finding the bare skin of her ass pebbled from the cool air. She stifles her cries as he buries his seed inside her.

Fenris brushes stray wisps of her hair away from her face as she sleeps, curled up beside him, one hand wound into his shirt and the other protectively over her belly. When she told him the news, he had struggled to contain his happiness. Never once had he wavered in the want of their child. She was worried, chewing her lip red, wondering if the best time for a child was now. He promised her that he would keep them both safe. _I am yours._ His sword was always best in service to her.

* * *

 

Fenris throws out his hand and stops her in her tracks. She slides up behind him and whispers, “what is it?” Shapes in the distant falling snow, dark forms with glimmers of red. She waits for him to reply patiently, knowing he is determining whether or not an enemy is in front of them. After a few moments, the forms growing closer, his eyes widen and he takes her hand. _Run_.

He half pulls her as she struggles with her steps in the deep snow. He hopes the Red Templars have not yet seen them. Those hopes are dashed as he hears one screech in their direction. He throws her arm over his shoulder, and his other arm goes around her waist, as he half carries her with him. They are moving far too slowly to escape them. They find their way back to the road. Run. He shouts at her, and draws her sword. She argues, drawing her staff. Red crystals wiz by her face, landing with a hard noise in the tree behind her. The tree sizzles and pops, and the corruption spreads from it. He kisses her deeply. _Nothing is going to keep me from you_. She runs.

She looks back as she flees, as Fenris yells and raises his sword. His blade is met by one of lyrium, the Templar screaming right back, spitting flakes of red. The others are close behind, and the snow is lit blue, as he activates his markings. She runs until he is out of sight. She makes her way back to the camp from the night before, their agreed meeting spot. She leans against a tree and struggles to breathe, her chest tight with worry. She slides down the tree, and buries her face in her hands. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Hawke waits with her staff in her hands, head turning at every pop and every noise. The sun begins to go down and the worry blossoms even harder. It is a dark stone settling into her pit, weighing her down and she cannot move. She hears a crack, the resounding sound of a branch snapping. She starts, and rises to her feet, her knuckles white as she grasps her staff. She sees familiar white hair and is relieved, until she sees the rest of him.

He emerges from behind the tree, his blue now tainted red. It courses through his markings, and colors his tears the same. Red lyrium bursts from his skin, tainted crystal spiking from his shoulders. Where once he would hold his sword was now a lance of red-lyrium that covered his whole arm. He screeched and growled and snarled and advanced toward her. “Oh no. No, no, no, Fenris, no,” she cried, stepping back away from him. _Run_.

She fled from her lover, the moon lighting her path. She desperately cast ice spells, trying to slow his advance, unable to make the final blow. Instead she focused on dodging the trees in her path, the errant branches that scratched at her face, and the resounding crunch of snow as he advanced behind her. She could not keep running. She stopped, turned, and fired a few bolts of magic at him. He shrugged them off as though they were merely an annoyance.

His hand, the one untwisted by lyrium, reached for her. She cried as he grabbed her face, wrapping fingers around her jaw. “Please, love, please come back to me,” she pleaded, looking into eyes which were once green. He pushed her into the snow, his lance piercing the ground beside her. The snow sputtered and melted from the heat of the lyrium. He loomed above her, and his grip on her jaw tightened.

She was crying and begging, her hands beating at his chest. “Fenris, oh Maker, please, love, please, the _baby_ ,” she cried and for a moment she thought she had reached him. His face grew closer to hers, and the tears that fell from his eyes were hot like acid on her face. His hand tightened again and forced her mouth open. And then he opened his and red lyrium poured from him into her. Her screams died in her throat.

* * *

Hawke wakes with a start, shooting upright in the bedroll. She struggles to catch her breath, her forehead hot and soaked with sweat, her shoulders heaving. She feels a gentle hand on her back, as Fenris rises to hold her in his arms. Untainted, untwisted, perfect arms. She grasps at him gratefully and buries her face in the crook of his neck. “What is it?” he whispers, stroking her hair and pressing a kiss to her head.

“Just a nightmare,” she whispers and holds him close. He wishes he could protect her from her own mind then, as he feels hot tears fall. He brushes them away gently and soothes her, whispering love into her ears. She calms and her grip on him tightens as she steels herself. She would not let such a nightmare become real. She would never run. Nothing would take him from her.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!  
> Happy to talk at [ my tumblr :) ](http://jawsandbones.tumblr.com/)


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